


All You Need

by th3d3adb0y



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Dead Eddie Kaspbrak, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned Losers Club (IT), Sorry guys, Stanley Uris Lives, Stozier, but poly bc stanpat, it hurt me too, steve ment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/th3d3adb0y/pseuds/th3d3adb0y
Summary: Stan had accompanied Richie back to Los Angeles, insisting that he wanted to be there with him. Richie allows himself to be taken care of.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Kudos: 24





	All You Need

**Author's Note:**

> My lovely Bee's birthday is today!! I love them and hope they enjoy this (and that it doesn't hurt too bad).

It had started with touches. Long, lingering hugs, gentle hands on his back and waist, legs pressed together when sitting on the sofa, a squeeze around his wrist. It confused him, he hadn’t had anyone touch him so casually in his adult life, be so free with affection. It made him feel warm. 

Stan had accompanied Richie back to Los Angeles, insisting that he wanted to be there with him. After a conversation with Patty himself, he agreed. She had been almost as insistent as Stan, telling Richie that he didn’t have to be alone for this, that he deserved someone to care for him, too, adding on that it would also help Stan, to have someone who understood exactly what had happened. Who had experienced Derry and everything held within its boundaries. 

Eddie hadn’t made it, though he didn’t go down without a fight. It had been a gut-wrenching week, watching him hold on to life with a slowly-weakening grip. The losers had stayed by his side, taking turns watching over him(and Richie) in shifts. Richie refused to leave, only doing so when physically forced, usually by Stan and Bev. At the end of a long seven-days, he was gone, Richie holding his hand and whispering assurances that it was okay, that he could let go. All the losers were there, holding onto each other, tears rolling down their cheeks. 

Eventually, they had to leave, had to return to their lives either to tie up loose ends and start new or resume what they had been doing. Richie wasn’t sure which he was going to do. After a tearful admission of his love for Eddie, of his sexuality, the others had gathered him in a big hug, pressing kisses to his forehead and hair, holding him as he cried. They fell asleep like that, six adults in a queen bed, a tangle of limbs. 

When they had arrived in LA, Stan immediately took over, telling him to shower and that he’d handle dinner. Richie did as he was told, relieved to not have to figure out food for the night. When he had emerged from the shower, Stan was pulling out plates, a box of pizza on the counter. He looked up as he heard Richie enter the kitchen, giving him a small smile. 

“Why don’t you go pick out a movie?” He suggested, nodding to the massive DVD collection Richie had. 

They settled on the couch, food placed on the coffee table, a glass of water thrust into Richie’s hands with an order to drink. Richie had picked The Princess Bride, as it was one of his favorites. He could quote most of it, and did so, Stan smiling at him from time to time. After he had finished eating and set his empty plate down, Stan had shifted, pulling Richie against his side, an arm wrapped around his shoulder. Immediately, Richie relaxed, allowing Stan to support his weight. 

He had ended up nodding off and woke to Stan gently shaking his shoulder. 

“Rich, let’s get you to bed,” he prompted softly, offering a hand to help him off the couch. 

In Richie’s room, Stan maneuvered him to the bathroom, insisting that he brush his teeth and do his nightly routine (not that he really had much of one), before leaving him to it. Richie had assumed that he’d gone to bed himself, but when he emerged from the ensuite, Stan was there, dressed in pajamas, face freshly washed, pulling down the covers of the bed. Richie stood still in the doorway for a moment, unsure of what to do, before Stan looked at him, a quirk in his brow. 

“Come to bed,” he murmured. Richie snapped out of it and crawled in, pulling off his glasses and setting them on the nightstand. Stan got in beside him, flicking off the lamp before, shifting to lay behind Richie, back to front, arm thrown over his side. 

“Goodnight, Stan,” he whispered, warmth spreading through him at the contact. 

“Night, Rich.”

Richie slept well considering the circumstances, though he did still wake in the middle of the night trembling and panting. Stan had just held him closer, pressing a kiss to his hair and murmuring that he was okay, he was safe. Eventually, he had drifted back off, face pressed to Stan’s neck, his hand rubbing soothing circles into his back. In the morning, he awoke on Stan’s chest, arm still wrapped around him while the other typed quickly on his phone. 

“Morning,” he said around a yawn, pulling away. Stan set his phone down and looked at him. 

“Good morning,” he replied, face still soft with sleep. 

“Texting Patty?” He asked a nervous flurry in his stomach at the thought of her being mad about their sleeping arrangements. He nodded, showing the messages, the most recent being her responding with heart eyes to a picture of Stan and him laying together, Richie still asleep. He felt himself flush. 

“She doesn’t mind me stealing her man?” He joked, hand rubbing the back of his neck. Stan stared incredulously at him. 

“Rich, she had insisted I be here to take care of you. I love you, you know that.” He pressed a kiss to his cheek before sliding out of bed. “Why don’t you give Bev a call, she wanted to check-in,” he calls over his shoulder. 

Stan kissed Richie for the first time a few hours later, when they were sitting on the porch. It was very gentle like he was trying not to startle him. One hand moved to cup the back of his head, fingers tangling in his dark curls, the other rested against his cheek, firm and solid. Reassuring. He deepened the kiss once he felt him relax, pulling Richie closer to him, the hand on his cheek slipping down to his back. When they broke away, Richie pressed his face into the other man’s neck, pressing a quick kiss there as he caught his breath. 

They continued like that for the next few weeks, gentle kisses and caresses, never going beyond that. Stan just gave Richie the comfort he needed. After a particularly long phone call with Steve, Richie had crawled into Stan’s lap and kissed him with more fervor than usual. Stan let him set the pace, following his lead. When they pulled apart, Richie was flushed and gave him a shy smile before climbing off of him and retreating to his room. Stan knew not to follow, instead, he just let him be and went back to what he had been doing.

It was never awkward between them. Sure, Richie was sometimes embarrassed when he stopped things from going any further, but after he calmed down things were just as they always were, a comfortable rhythm between the two of them. 

The night after he publicly came out they celebrated with a nice bottle of wine, cuddled close to each other on the outdoor couch. 

“I’m really proud of you, Rich,” Stan told him sincerely, holding his hand between his own, squeezing gently. “And I know he would be proud, too,” he said softly. Richie’s lip wobbled and a tear slid down his cheek. 

“Thank you, Stan,” he whispered shakily. 

Later that night, as they lay in bed, Richie posted a photo of their hands together captioning it: “Love is all you need.”


End file.
